


Hold On

by blakefancier



Series: For Your Entertainment [7]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard proves his father right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

Steve ends their nights with a hug. In the beginning, they're as brief as the first night, but eventually they go on for longer than a few minutes. He knows he should stop it. He knows that at some point they've crossed a line. But he's plastered against Steve's front, his head resting on Steve's shoulder, face pressed against Steve's neck, panting harshly, his body trembling and sweaty.

Some nights, Steve just holds him, quiet and steady. But tomorrow Steve is shipping out, again, and who knows how long it will be before they see each other again.

Steve lightly traces patterns all along Howard's back, making his skin prickle with heat. "Shh, Howard. Take it easy," Steve whispers. "I got you. Does that feel good?"

He nods and tightens his arms around Steve's waist. He knows that Steve expects a verbal response, but he can't. He couldn't form words right now if his life depended on it.

Steve chuckles softly and lays a big, steady hand on the back of Howard's neck. His fingers twine in Howard's hair and he tugs, gently; Howard needs a haircut. "You gotta promise to take care of yourself when I'm gone. You gonna promise to eat and sleep and step outside every once in awhile?"

Howard nods again and takes a deep breath, smelling sweat and leather and *Steve." He moans and twists his hips away, not that it matters, he's been hard since the beginning.

Steve makes an unhappy sound and slides his hands down Howard's body until they rest on Howard's hips and pulls them flush with his.

Howard gives a low, tortured moan, and before he can stop himself, he thrusts against Steve, once, twice, before stilling his hips.

"You know I don't mind, Howard." Steve shifts slightly, so that Howard can feel his answering erection.

"Stop!" Howard says, and Steve quickly lets him go and pulls away. And God, oh, God, it takes every bit of Howard's willpower not to take a few steps forward and tell Steve he didn't mean it. Instead, he turns away and crosses his arms over his chest. It hurts, it hurts so much.

"I'm sorry," Steve says and gently touches Howard's shoulder. "I should go. I've… I've got to recheck our supplies before I turn in."

He nods, then gasps softly when Steve turns him around.

Steve presses his forehead to Howard's and smiles. "Take care of yourself."

"You, too," he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed when Steve runs a callused thumb along his jaw. Then he… he feels the quick brush of Steve's mouth against his, there and gone, before he can protest. When he opens his eyes, Steve is already heading out the door.

He licks his lips, thinks he can taste… no. No, he's not like that.

Howard presses the heel of his hand to the bulge in his pants and rubs furiously. He doesn’t think about Steve's body or Steve's voice or the soft touch of Steve's lips, not even when he comes with a sharp cry.

He doesn't… He doesn't want to.

*****

Howard tries, he does, but this time it's worse. He can't stop thinking about Steve. He misses the feel of Steve's body pressed against his, Steve's hands gently rubbing his back, Steve's voice, soft and deep, whispering in his ear.

When he does manage to sleep, he wakes up sticky and ashamed, like a stupid teenager just discovering his hormones. He hates needing Steve like this. He hates it.

He hates missing Steve.

He manages to avoid Peggy. Thankfully, sometime in the second week of Steve's absence, she's called away on assignment.

Howard buries himself in his work, concentrates on wires and metal until his eyes burn and his nerves are jangled from too much coffee. He passes out on his worktable, pillowing his head on his arms, and wakes to sore necks and pounding headaches.

And he still misses Steve.

*****

"No," Peggy says, when she finally comes back. There's a bruise on her jaw and she's favoring her left ankle, but her eyes twinkle with a satisfaction that hasn't been seen in months. "I go away for three weeks and you fall apart."

He blinks at her, blearily, and rubs his eyes. "I'm working."

"You're pining." She grabs him by the back of his neck, like a recalcitrant puppy, and maneuvers him off his stool and murmurs softly, "Damn submissive."

"N—" He's cut short when she shakes him.

"Shut up." She lets go and shoves his coat at him. "Come on."

She takes him to the pub and plies him with drink after drink, until he can barely keep his head up.

"He kissed me," Howard slurs and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Did he?" Her eyes soften and she smiles.

"S'not funny." He tosses back his drink and slams the glass onto the table. "He… He shouldn't… He…"

"You miss him."

"Yes!" He says it too loudly and some of the other patrons look their way. He says it more quietly, "Yes. I can't sleep, I can't… I can't do anything. What's wrong with me?"

"Oh so many things." Despite her words, she takes his hands in hers and squeezes gently. "But I think I know how to take care of this specific problem. "

Howard can barely walk, but she manages to get him back to base with very little effort. She really is amazing. When he tells her so, she just smiles. They head in the opposite direction of his room, but he doesn't question it. Maybe they're going to get more booze. He can always use more.

They don't stop until they're in the soldiers' quarters. He blinks and looks around at the posters of scantly clad women on the walls.

"Why're we here?" he asks, swaying slightly.

"Change of scenery." She gently dumps him on a bunk and helps him off with his shoes.

"Won't they get mad?"

"No, they won't get mad." Peggy pushes him back onto the mattress and pulls the blankets up over him.

Tension eases out of him and he takes a deep breath. "Oh, it smells like Steve."

"That's because this is Steve's bed." She gently strokes his hair. "Close your eyes, Howard."

He does. Then he turns onto his belly, presses his face into the pillow, and takes another breath. Steve.

*****

The next morning, Howard wakes to a pounding headache and a raging erection, which he didn't think was possible. He moans softly and takes a deep breath, which does nothing to help his hangover because he's assaulted by Steve's scent and the arousal of his body rises exponentially.

He moans again and opens his eyes when the bed dips.

"Good morning," Peggy says cheerfully and holds out a cup of coffee.

Howard glares at her, takes the cup, and drains it in four big gulps. Then he sets the cup down on the floor. "Why did you bring me here?"

She raises an eyebrow and gives him a look.

"I'm not a submissive and Steve is not my Dom!" He swallows hard against the wave of nausea.

"So are you telling me that you're not hard under those blankets, Howard?" She grabs the blankets. "Shall we check?"

He blushes, furiously, and looks away.

"You're not fooling anyone, least of all me, Howard Stark." She grabs him by the chin and forces him to look at her. "I told Steve he should just take you and be done with it. But no, he wanted to court you. God, do you know how much you're driving both me and Falsworth crazy?"

"W-What?" His body is tense and he fights not to scramble away.

She laughs at that and shakes her head. "Do you really that submissives are the only ones with needs and biological imperatives? Doms are taught to read body language, did you know that? So are agents. You're so obviously hurting, Howard. All I want to do is give you what you need." She caresses his chin. "You're damn lucky that Falsworth and I respect Steve, or one of us would have had you on your knees by now."

Howard's whole body flushes at that and he lets out a little gasp.

Something in her eyes darkens and she lets go of his chin. "You're also damn lucky we're the only two Elite Doms on base. There'd be a lot of fights over you, Howard."

"I'm not… I don’t want any of this!"

"That's a lie. We both know that's a lie." She leans towards him. "This isn't just psychological, no matter what you American Elites say. It's biological, too, Howard. That's what makes us different from the teeming masses playing their little sex games. You can't run from biology."

"Steve isn't an Elite!"

She laughs. "Oh, Howard, he's the pinnacle of human perfection. He's the most Elite man on the planet. And he wants you."

"I don't want him!" he says, his breath coming in harsh sobs.

"Liar," Peggy replies softly. "It'll only get worse, Howard." She pats him gently on the shoulder and gets to her feet.

He closes his eyes and doesn't open them again until she's gone. She's wrong, she's wrong. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to *be* anything he doesn’t want to be.

He's not a fucking submissive and he's not a fairy.

He's not, he's not, he's not. When Steve gets back, he'll break it off, whatever this is between them.

It'll be over.

*****

Howard dives back into work, concentrating on the intricacies of circuit boards and wires, enjoying the feel of metal against his fingertips and the warmth of the soldering iron and blowtorch. Now that he’s firmed his resolve, it’s easier to avoid Peggy; it helps that he practically runs the other way when he sees her. He won’t be distracted again, not by her, and certainly not by Steve. He’s not here to fill up his social calendar. He has a job to do.

So when he hears the rumble of rumors that Steve and the others are on their way back, he ruthlessly squashes the feeling of excitement and consciously shuts out the conversation. When that doesn’t work, he hightails it to hi room and works on projects there.

*****

When the door to his private workroom opens, his body tenses and his pulse rate skyrockets, because he knows that Steve should be walking into the room. He’s the only one who doesn’t knock. He looks up from the weapon he’s working on and frowns, because it’s Peggy. For a moment, he considers locking himself in the bedroom or maybe the bathroom. He cuts off that train of thought, because, *really*, he’s Howard Stark.

“What do you want?” he asks coldly.

She doesn’t say anything. She walks over to him and stands close so that he has to tilt his head back to look up at her.

Howard frowns because she’s rarely this obvious about her status as a Domme. He narrows his eyes and really *looks* at her. She’s pale and her lips are pressed in a straight line. Her eyes are red, as if she’s been crying. “Peggy? What is it?”

“Howard,” she says, her voice soft and trembling, as if she’s trying to hold it together.

And suddenly, he knows. Dear God, of course he knows. *Steve.*

He gasps as the knowledge hits him like a fist to the chest and for a moment, he can’t breathe and he’s sure that he’s dying. Or maybe he only hopes that he is because Steve. He can’t… Steve!

“No,” he says, and his voice is trembling and small. “No!”

Peggy’s eyes widen in horror and she shakes her head. “Oh, God, Howard, no, no, Steve’s alive. He’s alive.”

He braces his hands against the table and lets out a quiet sob. “Then what—“

“He’s been injured, seriously injured. They’ve taken him to the medical ward.”

“That’s impossible! His uniform should have stopped any projectiles from penetrating the skin. I know, I made it myself!” His hands are shaking so he clasps them together.

“He wasn’t wearing his uniform when they were attacked. And someone managed to get a knife in him.”

“Why the hell wasn’t he wearing his uniform?” he yells, jumping to his feet.

“I don’t know.” She grabs his upper arms.

“I have to see him. I… I have to go. Where’s my jacket? It was here a moment ago. I left it right here!” He’s yelling again, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Howard, calm down.” She shakes him gently. “Now!"

He takes a deep breath, then another. “I’m calm.”

“He’s in surgery, Howard.” She lets go of his arms and cups his face. “He’s going to be all right. He’s going to be fine.”

He nods and tries to think about something other than Steve and how he should be there, waiting. “The… the others. Are they all right?”

“A few scrapes and bruises, but they’re fine otherwise.” She slides a hand down to the back of his neck and pulls him close. He struggles, briefly, then gives in, pressing his face to her shoulder, arms wrapping around her waist, as he shudders. She strokes the back of his neck and murmurs softly: it’s a small comfort.

After a few minutes, he pulls away and wipes his eyes. ”Let’s go.”

She gently brushes his cheeks with her thumbs and says, softly, “All right.”

He has to make sure Steve is all right.

*****

Howard hates waiting. He’s always hated waiting, even as a boy. He paces the width of the sitting area, hands clasped behind his back, every part of him clamoring to do something. Anything. But there’s nothing he can do because biology has never been his strong suit. He’s always been better with machinery.

On his eighty-third pass, he’s stopped by a hand grasping his arm. He looks up from the ground, right into Falsworth’s eyes, and tenses.

Falsworth gives a rueful smile and holds up a paper cup. “I thought you could use some coffee.”

He glances at the cup, then remembers Peggy’s comments about one of them having Howard on his knees. He blushes, which makes Falsworth raise an eyebrow, and takes the cup. “Thank you.”

Falsworth brushes his fingers against the back of Howard’s hand and sighs. “My pleasure.”

Howard looks away and takes a sip from the cup.

It’s another hour before the doctor, looking tired and serious, makes an appearance. Everyone crowds around him, eagerly asking for news. The doctor holds up his hands to quiet them. “Captain Rogers is doing well and will make a full recovery.”

“What took so long?” Howard asks.

“We had some problems keeping him anesthetized, but as I said, he’s doing well. He’s sleeping now. You can all see him tomorrow.” When the others protest, the doctor glowers. “Tomorrow, I said! Don’t make me call Colonel Phillips. Now get out, all of you. Get some rest, you look dead on your feet.”

As they all shuffle out, Dugan slings his arm around Howard’s shoulders. “You got any booze?”

Howard doesn’t much feel like smiling, but he does anyway. “What do you have in mind?”

Dugan laughs.

*****

“My room’s that away,” Howard says, waving his hand expansively, and staggers against Dugan. “Oops! ‘M a little drunk.”

“You sure are.” Dugan grabs him around the waist “You’re a bit of a lightweight, aren’t you?”

Howard snorts. “Nope.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes “Anyway, we’re not going to your room, we’re going to the barracks.”

“For more booze?” Howard asks hopefully.

“To sleep.” Dugan grunts softly. “You’re heavy for such a skinny guy.”

“Got my own bed.”

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in Steve’s bunk?”

“Yes,” he says, before he can stop himself. “But what do you care?”

“I got my orders," Dugan says gruffly.

"Orders? What orders?"

Dugan just grins and pats Howard’s ass.

Howard pukes on Dugan’s boots in retaliation.

*****

"Rise and shine, buttercup," Dugan booms.

Howard groans, pitifully, and burrows under the blankets. Once again, he's sleeping on Steve's bunk and, God, he's glad he's in too much pain to sport an erection this time around.

"I have breakfast."

The very thought makes his stomach roll and he takes a deep breath to quell the nausea.

"I think there are some old socks of Cap's under the bed if you need to sniff something."

He lifts his head and glares at Dugan. "What?"

"Hey, you were the one babbling about Cap's smell and sniffing the sheets last night."

Oh, God. He rubs his eyes and tells himself that he is *not* going to blush.

"Sit up and eat your breakfast." Dugan sets a tray of eggs and toast on the bunk.

Howard swallows hard. "I'll puke on your boots."

"Do that again and I'll make you spit shine them, buttercup."

"I make your weapons, Dugan. Do you really think it's wise to antagonize me?" He pokes at the eggs and makes a face.

Dugan laughs. "You've got a point, Howard. Eat your breakfast and I'll take you to go to see Cap."

He looks up sharply. "Is he awake?"

"In and out." When Howard tosses back the blankets and makes a move to get up, Dugan puts a hand on his chest. "Nope. I've been told that if you don't eat your breakfast, you don't get to see him."

Howard clenches his hands into fists and grits his teeth. "Peggy's not my… my… Domme!"

"This isn't her order. Not Falsworth's either, so you can put away that glare." Dugan pulls his hand away from Howard's chest and sets the tray in Howard's lap. "Cap made it perfectly clear that if you don't eat, you're banned from his hospital room."

Howard grabs the fork and stabs at the eggs. "You don't have to watch me!"

Dugan crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Howard. After a moment, Howard looks down and shoves the forkful of egg into his mouth.

*****

Howard stops just inside the hospital room and stares at Steve, who is sleeping peacefully. He looks pale and… vulnerable, like a man who was in surgery less than twelve hours ago. Sometimes, Howard forgets that for all Steve's strength and agility, he's still just a man. The perfect man, yes, but a man all the same.

Steve could die. He could leave on assignment and never come back. And what would Howard have then, other than crushing despair and grief?

Howard takes a deep breath and forces himself to bridge the distance between them until he's standing over Steve. Then he reaches down, to touch Steve's face, to take his hand, to stroke his hair, to do *something.* But at the last minute, he snatches his hand back, because he can't.

He tells himself it's because he's strong, but deep down he knows that's not true.

His father was right all along; Howard is weak.


End file.
